


Coming Home

by PinkPenguinParade



Series: Short prompt fills [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, One Word Prompt Meme, Prompt Fill, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Warning: Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPenguinParade/pseuds/PinkPenguinParade
Summary: Crowley didn’t come with him.Crowley ALWAYS came with him. Ever since they’d moved here to the cottage, Crowley had always come with him when he’d walked into town.---------------------Aziraphale is out for supplies by himself on an icy day, and finds himself fretting
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Short prompt fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182974
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97
Collections: Good Omens Fic Writers Workshop: Weekly Prompts





	Coming Home

Crowley didn’t come with him. 

It was cold, yes (although he rarely felt it enough to complain, himself). But… Crowley didn’t come with him. 

Crowley ALWAYS came with him. Ever since they’d moved here, since they’d found the cottage and bought it the human way and worked to restore it piece by piece, Crowley had always come with him when he’d walked into town. His demon had made snarky comments and smirked at people and smiled properly at Annelise at the bakery and Grey down at the wine shop. He’d ordered expensive vintages as a surprise while Aziraphale had been browsing the stock; he’d snuck notes to Annelise and Clara for special cakes or treats to be there next time. He’d kept a running commentary with Aziraphale about the people around them, the petty sins they were thinking about while Aziraphale countered with the small graces they extended. 

Crowley didn’t come with him. 

He didn’t doubt his demon was sincere when a glance out the window had him saying, “Thanks, angel, but I think I’ll stay home this time. It looks totally wretched out there and my feet aren’t always steady even before you add ice and slush.” It was a perfectly reasonable response. If Crowley hadn’t demurred he probably would have suggested it himself.

Only he really missed that serpent, it turned out. 

Annelise was running the bakery by herself, told him Clara was too far out to get in safely. He ordered scones and one of the flourless tortes they’d started keeping (he suspected Crowley had had a hand in that, but he wasn’t going to question a good flourless chocolate torte). And here, she handed him a small tart with hothouse strawberries, on the house, she said, and was Mr Crowley well today, she was sorry not to see him.

Sri was starting to close and head for home but had kept open with a selection of his favorite vegetables, she told him with a wink, in hopes he’d be in as usual, and she hoped Mr Crowley was all right? 

Grey had their order in, and he should just take a couple bottles for his basket if he was there alone, he hoped everything was fine, and they could make arrangements to pick up the rest of the cases later when they could bring the Bentley. 

Mr Crowley was fine, he told all of them, just didn’t feel like it was a good day to be ambling about, he was sure they’d both be out in a few days for more supplies. 

He tried not to, but he hoped he wasn’t lying. It was reasonable and sensible for Crowley to stay home in this.

He tried not to think about how rarely he would use the words ‘reasonable and sensible’ for his dearest fiend.

He stepped over to the small library, unsurprised to see a sign taped to the door proclaiming them to be closed for the weather; the same on the little florist’s shop (he might have bought flowers if they were open, even though Crowley always complained that the flowers there weren’t trying hard enough). He walked down the icy street with his laden basket over one arm, simply taking his time, and laid small blessings on the people as he passed--that Grey might get home safely, that Sarah might not slip on the ice as she walked her small terrier, that the children attempting to sled and merely sliding instead might be safe and warm.

He thought about how quickly he’d come to love this place, how much he felt at home here and how the humans had accepted and come to care about them so readily. 

And Crowley hadn’t come with him. 

Aziraphale turned and headed for home.

***

The ice had definitely continued to build while he’d been out. This area didn’t usually see this kind of weather, and he hoped it didn’t bode ill for a bad winter. 

He even expended a tiny miracle to keep steady on an increasingly unstable footing as he made his way up his front walkway, then stood under the overhang, stamping ice off his feet on the mat and brushing water and ice from his hair. 

He was stalling now, he realized. But Crowley hadn’t come with him. 

He took an extra second to brush tiny bits of ice off his shoulders as well. 

The door whipped open to show him a lanky black-clad demon, the love of his eternal life, standing there pinning him with a golden stare and reaching for the basket. “You planning to just stand there in the ice all day, angel?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said, flooded with relief and not sure why and annoyed with himself for doubting at all.

“I mean it, move. Get in here. You’re letting all the heat out!” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale found himself being tugged unceremoniously inside the blessedly warm cottage and briskly undressed to a muttered litany of “Honestly the road to Hell is frozen door to door salesmen and it’s not as manky and shit as it is out there right now, I told you we could go tomorrow or even next week, it’s not like any house you live in will ever be short of snacks” as scarf and boots and overcoat were whisked off him and hung to dry. 

“Crowley,” he said again, unable to keep the soft smile from his voice. The cottage was warm and bright and his demon’s hands were warm and soft and he was just unaccountably _glad_ from his crown to his toes, which he wiggled in their miraculously dry socks. 

“Don’t _Crowley_ me, it’s absolute shit out there. Get you into the kitchen, there’s cider on the stove and muffins on to toast and you should get on the outside of some of it.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” Aziraphale said, but let himself be led to the kitchen. 

“You didn’t have to go out there, but you wanted us to have wine and vegetables in so you did--” 

His angel-wing mug was filled with cider and pressed into his hand, and he automatically took a sip. It was hot and spicy and as he swallowed it pushed away some of the chill that had seeped in while he was fretting. 

“--And also you’re _daft,”_ Crowley went on, reaching into the oven and pulling outa pan that had buttered muffins steaming into the kitchen. 

Aziraphale took a bite and made a little noise as the crisp butter and yeast filled his mouth. “You didn’t miracle this!”

“Of course I didn’t miracle it. You don’t like it when it’s miracled.” Crowley smiled softly, an expression he’d only allowed himself to show openly over the last few months since Armageddon didn’t happen, and it never failed to fill Aziraphale with joy.

“It’s perfect!”

“It’s toast,” Crowley said flatly, “and you’re definitely daft. Are you sure your brain didn’t freeze out there?”

Aziraphale took another bite and considered, then laughed. “Perhaps it did at that. And this is just what happens when I come home and everything is so gloriously warm.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his demon’s cheek. 

Crowley lifted a hand in something like wonderment to touch his cheek there, then shook himself and briskly rubbed at the skin. “Finish your toast, angel. You’re getting butter everywhere. And then I’ve got a movie to torture you with.” 

Aziraphale laughed again, popped the last bite of toast into his mouth. “I’m sure it will be awful, dearest. I’m bringing my cider.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Warm. 
> 
> Took a little bit but I'm trying to do more prompt fills and small works to stretch my muscles while working on the bigger ones. 
> 
> Beta as always by LastSaskatchewanPirate and GeiaStGermaine--you guys are amazing and awesome!
> 
> Kudos and Comments just give me warm fuzzies--I'm bad at responding in any timely manner but they are all treasured!


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